Games Without Frontiers
by Alexa Johnson
Summary: No Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, not yours, that matters now." HBP, pg. 592 . An alternate ending to the series that is compliant with everything until the end of HBP. Dramione. Complete.


**Summary: **_"No Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, not yours, that matters now." (HBP, pg. 592). An alternate ending to the series that is compliant with everything until the end of HBP. DHr. Complete._

**Author's note: **This was written as a pinch-hit for daphne_minor over at eljay's dmhgficexchange "shine a light" round. We had to include a song/poem/quote in our prompt to help inspire our giftee, and the song I was given was Peter Gabriel's _Games Without Frontiers_, although you can only see the song in the title and influenced in the story if you squint because it was hard. For purposes of timing, I've discarded the whole "Harry's protected by his mother's sacrifice" plotline, and I've completely ignored Bill and Fleur's wedding. Also, aside from chats and encouragement from the lovely marmaladefever, this isn't betaed since I ran out of time, and while I've done my best to catch all the mistakes, I take full responsibility for any that remain! I hope you all enjoy, and please review!

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling and therefore do not own Harry Potter—I merely love playing in her marvelous sandbox! Also, the song _Games Without Frontiers _belongs to Peter Gabriel.

* * *

**Games Without Frontiers**

_**b**__y __**a**__lexa __**j**__ohnson_

_

* * *

  
_

The figure approaching the Hogwarts' gates was staggering, every step a struggle to remain upright. He'd left a false trail like he'd been instructed to do, but that after a few lengthy sessions of the _Cruciatus _curse had him almost breathless, and the corners of his vision were blackening as if he were going blind, since the half moon cast only a feeble light that barely penetrated the darkness.

Wrapping his cloak about him as tightly as though it were the last thing he had left to hold on to, he pushed himself onwards, focusing all his energy on his feet. He was so focused, in fact, that he didn't even realize he had finally reached his destination until he stumbled into it, and he sagged against the gate wearily.

A familiar voice called out, "Who's there?"

He lifted tired eyes to the sentry, just able to make out the shape in the darkness. "Not…a killer," he wheezed, hating himself for this display of weakness but unable to stop it. "Don't know…what to do…anymore."

"_Cousin_?"

The shocked cry of Nymphadora Tonks was the last thing that registered in Draco Malfoy's mind before his legs gave out and he lost consciousness.

* * *

_(Yesterday)_

All he was aware of was pain.

He had been expecting punishment for his ultimate failure—_it hadn't mattered that he'd let the Death Eaters in to Hogwarts, _the Dark Lord had said, _when he hadn't delivered at the crucial moment—_but nothing had prepared him for this.

The torture was over, but it didn't feel like it.

He'd been dimly aware of someone moving him—his mother, perhaps? At least he was lying down on something soft, and he brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. The Dark Lord had forbidden his mother to give him potions so he would experience every aspect of his sentence, and the worst of it all was that he knew he deserved it.

He had suffered through everything this year to protect his parents, but in the end he had lowered his wand. If he really loved them, there would've been no hesitation.

The old man would've been dead before he'd even realized who'd killed him.

_Draco, Draco, you are not a killer_.

_Why _had he even lowered his wand in the first place?

Had he really been considering…

"I won't be able to protect him now. The Dark Lord is going to exploit his inability to kill by forcing him to until he becomes used to it, and I will not be able to prevent that."

"I never wanted this for Draco. His soul can still be saved, but soon it will be too late. Can you really not do anything more for him, Severus?"

Frowning, Draco left his troubled thoughts and tried to push past the pain to focus on the conversation around him.

There was a pause, and then Snape said slowly, "Dumbledore offered him sanctuary. Potter was there, and even though he wouldn't like it, he would want to honor Dumbledore's wishes. Draco would be safe with the Order."

"But how would they trust him?"

"They'll use Veritaserum, although I doubt it will really convince them. But they won't be able to deny him protection. This is the last thing we can do, and I should be able to get him out tonight, although he will have to get there on his own. The Dark Lord will suspect your involvement, Narcissa—you could go with him."

"No. Lucius needs me now, and I could never leave him. Saving my son is more important to me than anything, Severus."

"It will not be that easy."

"I know. But at least he will be able to get another chance."

Draco didn't know how he felt about all this.

His heart was clearly not in killing, and even now just thinking about it was adding to his already trembling body. But how could he handle being around Potter and his cronies? And could he really abandon his parents?

Aware then of a hand stroking his hair, he realized with a start that his mother was bending down over him. Blinking rapidly, he tried to concentrate on her face, which was sad but resigned. "I hate asking this of you especially after everything you endured for us over this past year, but I must. Severus says he will be able to get you out, and I want you to go. You won't have another chance, and I want you to be able to live with yourself."

Opening his mouth, he was poised with a protest, but she gently rested a finger on his lips, effectively silencing him. "Please do this for me, Draco. No matter what happens to your father or me I will be happy knowing there is still hope for you. You are _not _a killer, and I don't want the Dark Lord to mold you in to one. _Please_."

All he could do was stare at her, distracted by the way she'd echoed the old man's words.

His mother had never begged him for anything in his life, and even though the thought of leaving almost broke him, the Dark Lord terrified him. No amount of tough talking would hide the fact that he wasn't cut out for this, but he hated himself all the more for letting his weakness endanger his family.

"I love you," he croaked, throat still dry and hoarse from screaming.

She gathered him in her arms, and he fell limply against her. "I know."

* * *

_(Three Days Later)_

When he woke up, sore and exhausted, the second thing he saw after he realized he was in the hospital wing was Potter sitting next to his bed, studying him with an indescribable expression on his face.

Draco's lips twisted effortlessly into a sneer, and he felt ridiculously grateful for some normalcy in a life that was rapidly spinning out of his control. "Come to watch over me, have you? How touching."

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing," Potter began as though he'd never even said anything, "but if you are, we'll figure it out. I wouldn't trust you even after drowning you with Veritaserum. You're still here only because of Dumbledore, and don't you forget it."

The sneer grew into something more ugly. "You really are too predictable, Potter."

Potter's expression didn't change. "Well, that's the only thing that's saving you right now, Malfoy. You could at least _pretend _to be grateful."

He assumed a thoughtful pose, then shrugged and fell back onto the bed. "Nah, too much effort."

"Don't worry, we'll find out why you're really here," Potter said, standing, "and if you play us all for fools, we'll make your life so miserable you'll even regret leaving Voldemort."

Draco hissed, clenching his fists together. "_Don't say his name."_

"What, does it frighten you _that_ much?" Potter taunted, folding his arms over his chest.

"I wouldn't justify myself to you even if I _did _care about what you thought of me, Potter," Draco snapped, not liking where this conversation had gone.

Potter gave him an unreadable look. "What I think of you shouldn't matter as much as what you think of yourself, but I'm not the one who has to live with that."

He hadn't been expecting Potter to say something that profound—he hadn't even thought he knew the meaning of the word—and a thoughtful expression lingered on Draco's face even after he left.

Even though he felt pretty miserable, this could _almost _be entertaining.

* * *

_(Two Weeks Later)_

"Granger."

"Graaaaaanger."

"_Graaa-aaa-aaaaaanger."_

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"I'm bored."

They'd banished him to the Slytherin dorms, but he was forbidden to leave unless the Order member who was watching him went along too. Today it was Granger, and he was sprawled on the couch in the Common Room while she was reading a large tome of something or other in a chair as far away from him as possible.

He still had his speaking privileges though, and he could make her just as miserable as she was. The test was to see how fast it would take to _really_ piss her off, and he'd given himself ten minutes since she wasn't as predictable as the others.

"I'm not here to entertain you, Malfoy," she said, not even looking up from her book.

"But I'm _bored,_" he complained again, really accentuating the whine this time.

She kept her silence, and he was almost impressed. Weasley would have told him to _shut the fuck up _at least once by now, and he'd barely gotten started.

He couldn't resist a hint of evilness in his grin. "I'm bored _and _hungry."

She did look up then. "You can't possibly be hungry, you ate half an hour ago!"

"I have a really fast metabolism." He could tell it really irked her that she had to send for a house elf since he couldn't be left alone, and he smirked at her pursed lips.

Frowning, she said, "No one's metabolism is _that_ fast."

"Well, seeing as how all I can do in this bloody place is eat and sleep, I plan on taking advantage of the little rights I have. I just want food, I don't care about spew—"

"It's _S.P.E.W._" If Granger were an animal, he figured she'd probably be a bird. It didn't take much imagination to see feathers puffed out in ruffled indignation.

"Whatever," he said, waving a flippant hand and already bored with this conversation in spite of his earlier intentions.

Even Granger, it seemed, could be just as predictable as the rest of them.

* * *

_(Five Days Later)_

Now they let him go to the library, although only for a few hours a day.

Granger and Weasel were doing some sort of research, so they'd—well, Granger—had volunteered them for Malfoy Sitting. Sometimes, when his mind wandered too far, he'd think about what he'd be doing if he were still in the Dark Lord's service.

_101 Ways To Kill a Muggle._

He'd probably still be on number one.

Shuddering, he turned back to his book, but raised voices from a few tables down drew his attention.

"Honestly Ron, he's just sitting there. I really don't understand why you can't simply ignore him."

"You say _simply _as though it should be easy—every time I look up he's in my line of sight, and I can't very well ignore _that!_"

"So move."

"But I would still know he's there."

Draco rolled his eyes. "As you've so astutely observed, I _am_, in fact, here, and I've also got ears, in case you'd forgotten that minute detail."

"That right there is the problem," Ron declared hotly. "You're _here_. Why are you here? Can't you just take some books back to the dorms?"

"In case it escaped your dense skull, Weasel, I need to be _monitored_. I believe you have Granger to thank for that," Draco said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head.

Turning his attention back to Granger, Weasel hissed, "He could be _spying _on us! What in Merlin's name were you thinking—"

"We've already established that he's not a spy, Ron," Granger said with a sigh. "He might be a misguided, racist, untrustworthy bastard, but you can't lie under Veritaserum. Anyway, somebody had to, and since all the adults are busy and we have our own research to do in the library as it is, I thought it was convenient."

"Still here, actually," Draco called out, enjoying the show immensely. This was definitely more fun than wasting his life away in his room. He was still wasting his life away, but at least he had free entertainment now.

Weasel grumbled something unintelligible, but seeing as how he didn't sound any better when he articulated properly, Draco figured he wasn't missing much.

As they went back to their work, Draco's thoughts went to his mother, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing now.

Damnit, he should be with her!

He couldn't help feeling as though he were betraying her, even though it was _because_ of her that he was here.

But how much better would it be if he were betraying himself?

* * *

_(Two Days Later)_

"_Has that worthless son of yours been found yet, Luciusssss?"_

"_No, my Lord. He seems to have…disappeared."_

"_And that does not trouble you?"_

"_Of course it does, but I see now that he would only have been a liability. He has been nothing but a disappointment to me."_

"_Would your wife feel the same way?"_

"_No. She has always been rather overprotective of him."_

"_If I told you that I have believed for some time now that Narcissa was responsible for his desertion, what would you say to that?"_

"_It would not come as a surprise."_

"_Do you think her capable of betraying us for his sake?"_

"_I…do, my Lord."_

"_Then you understand why she must be terminated. If you are the one to do it, my trust in you will be restored."_

"_I would do—anything for you, Lord."_

"Harry! Harry!"

Hermione gave him a concerned look as he came back to himself, and her frown deepened when he held his silence. "Harry?"

He sighed, drawing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. "Voldemort intends to murder Narcissa."

Ron gave him a blank look. "Why?"

"He thinks she would betray their side for her son, so she's become a liability. He means to have her killed."

Hermione blanched. "We've got to tell Malfoy—"

But Harry shook his head. "No."

"What do you mean, no?" Hermione cried, getting to her feet. "He has a right to know, Harry!"

"We have no idea how he'll react," he insisted, standing as well. Ron remained sitting and was just watching them, for once remaining silent on a subject related to Malfoy.

"Well of _course _we won't if we don't tell him," she said, exasperated. "But damnit, this is his _mother _Harry! We _have _to—"

"The Order's not going to want to risk anything for Narcissa Malfoy, and we can't afford to be compromised by any sort of reckless behavior on Malfoy's part," Harry insisted, and although he was firm, she thought she could almost hear some regret in his voice. "I know I can trust Ron, but I want to hear you promise me that you're not going to run off and tell him."

She glanced over at Ron, who shrugged his shoulders. "He's got a point, Hermione. Although I loathe the bastard, I wouldn't wish his mother dead. But there's nothing we can do about it."

Sighing, she had to admit to herself that they were right. But it was as Ron said—even though he was Malfoy, he didn't deserve _this. _"All right—I promise. But I still don't like it."

Harry offered a small smile. "Everyone has to do things they don't like in times like these, Hermione. But that's just the nature of war."

* * *

_(Three Weeks Later)_

They'd finally reached a shaky sort of unofficial truce.

In spite of her promise to Harry, she had to bite her tongue whenever she saw Malfoy, which was a lot since he practically lived in the library now. Harry and Ron were often gone a few days at a time Horcrux hunting—they'd decided it wasn't smart for the three of them to be out at once since they were the only ones with this information, and since Hermione was the best researcher, she was usually the one to remain behind.

But she found that she actually didn't mind.

Either Malfoy was ignoring her or didn't think she was worth his time, because he'd grown quieter as the weeks passed and kept mainly to his books. She was usually too busy with her own work to pay him much heed until she happened to catch the title of his current book as she was passing his table one afternoon.

"Wuthering Heights?"

He didn't even look up. "It's a classic, Granger. I thought at least _you _would appreciate it."

"But it's—a _Muggle _classic!"

"I didn't know you had anything against Muggles, Granger," he said, sneering.

She rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth in frustration. "Please don't insult my intelligence, Malfoy."

The sneer had merged into a smirk. "You just insulted mine."

"Oh?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow. "So animals _can_ write now?"

He considered the question for a moment. "Well, I suppose it _is_ possible that Emily Bronte could've been a witch."

She took a calming breath.

_Let it go, let it go, let it…_

But, even though she had been the one to bring this exchange of mockery to this point, she just couldn't do it. "How can you really think that?"

"What?"

He almost sounded surprised, but that simply fueled her anger. "How can you think that being human is only about magic! If that were the case, what about _Voldemort_—"

"_Don't say his name!" _Draco was on his feet now, a threatening finger in her face. "And we are _not_ having this conversation—"

"Why not? What are you so afraid of? Or is it because you've changed your mind, and just don't want to admit that you were wrong?"

"Granger—"

"Voldemort's a half-blood, did you know that? How can you really, truly think that he is more human than me, or Harry?" Her chest was heaving, her fists were clenched, and her face was flushed with fury.

"_Granger—_"

She picked up Wuthering Heights from the table, waving it at him violently. "Is it really so hard to believe that a Muggle could've written this?"

"Will you just shut up for _one bloody minute_!" His cheeks were tinged with pink, and he was shaking. She snapped her mouth closed then, and for a moment the only sounds that could be heard were their heavy breathing.

Finally he continued, "First of all, if you'd really been listening, you would've heard that I wasn't being serious."

"But if you really believe it, then that doesn't even matter—"

"Granger…"

"Right. Sorry." She bit her lip, telling herself she'd hold her tongue until he finished what he had to say.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "If you just want to hear me say I was wrong, you're going to be disappointed. If you'd grown up in my family, you would've had no reason to think any differently either. I'm not going to try to justify myself to you because I really don't even _care _what you think of me, and that will never change. To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure what I think anymore, about anything. But I do know that I'd like to finish Wuthering Heights in peace."

Wordlessly, she passed the book back to him, and he opened it up as he sat back down. She headed back to her table with a thoughtful look on her face, thinking of where she would be now if their positions _had _been reversed.

Surprisingly, Malfoy had actually given her plenty of new things to reconsider.

* * *

_(Two Weeks Later)_

After months of searching that had led to nothing but dead ends, they were finally making some progress with the Horcrux hunt.

They'd finally managed to find and destroy Hufflepuff's cup in the Lestranges' vault at Gringotts—a hiding place that had seemed so obvious once all the pieces had been put together—and now they were back at another beginning.

"Well, we still have Rowena Ravenclaw, right?" Hermione asked as they were pouring over books one afternoon. "And there's also Nagini, who we probably won't be able to get to until the final battle."

She paused to glance over at Malfoy, who was in his usual corner. "You don't suppose Malfoy ever heard anything about Horcruxes, do you?"

"No way," Ron said fiercely, shaking his head. "I might feel sorry for the bastard, but I still don't trust him."

Harry sighed heavily, and Hermione gave him a worried look. The strain of the hunt was wearing him down, and she knew he didn't sleep more than a few hours a night. Even though his visions occurred less frequently now, the ones he had were more potent and draining than ever.

"I don't know," he finally said. "We'd have more resources if the Order knew what we were doing, but I see the wisdom in Dumbledore's secrecy since it still seems as though Voldemort has no idea. We do need to move faster though, because it's all over when he _does _find out. It's true that Malfoy might've been able to overhear something, but even though he hasn't tried anything I'm still not sure…"

Ron's mouth was already open, but before he could cut in there was a faint tapping at one of the library's windows.

Hermione frowned.

Who would possibly be owling them?

An uneasy silence fell as Harry went and opened the window, taking the letter from the bird's leg. No sooner had he done that when Hermione could see his entire body stiffen and she couldn't help but look at Malfoy again, who was quietly observing them.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked, quietly.

"It's for Malfoy…from _Snape_," Harry snarled, spiting out their former professor's name as though it were a particularly foul curse word.

"What does Snape want?"

"Nothing I'm interested in, especially if it concerns _you_," Harry spat viciously back at Malfoy, and Hermione almost winced at his sudden vitriol.

Malfoy was on his feet now. "Well if it's about me, don't I have the right to at least read the note?"

Harry's face was hard as stone. "No."

"Snape's a greasy bastard," Ron said, matter-of-factly. "It's only natural he'd want to talk with other greasy bastards."

"Your vocabulary and powers of deduction are impressive as always, Weasel," Malfoy said, expression twisted with a sneer.

Hermione sighed. "This bickering isn't going to accomplish anything. Snape must have _some_ reason for writing…maybe we could use this to our advantage. Be reasonable, Harry—what does the note say?"

"Not much, actually," Harry finally admitted, some of the heat out of his voice. "He's giving Malfoy one last chance to return to Voldemort without serious repercussions."

Malfoy scoffed. "That must be a cover. Snape wouldn't be that dumb that he'd write the real message when it could be intercepted. Now you, on the other hand…"

Harry clenched his teeth, but Hermione was pleased to see that he didn't otherwise respond, proceeding instead to tap the note with his wand and mutter _Finite Incantatem. _A long silence followed as Harry just stared down at the piece of paper, an assortment of different emotions flickering across his face.

"Harry?" questioned Ron, more curious than angry.

Taking a deep breath, Harry read, "You may have heard the term Horcrux before, but I know of the trio's quest for them, and have information concerning Ravenclaw's diadem. I am not in a position to destroy it, but the Dark Lord is getting impatient, and he is planning his next move soon. Meet me at Spinner's End tomorrow promptly at three."

Hermione had trusted Snape because Dumbledore had placed so much faith in him, and a part of her still thought that there must have been more to their final exchange on the Astronomy Tower than it had seemed. She'd only tried to say this to Harry once, and had nearly gotten her head bitten off in the process. But now they could no longer avoid this topic, and she knew she was going to have to be the first one to start this conversation.

"I know you're not going to like this Harry," she began, hesitantly, "but we have to accept the fact that Snape could still be on our side."

"He killed Dumbledore, Hermione—"

"I remember that, okay?" she cut in quickly before he could get started. "But maybe there were no other options! Dumbledore could've been _asking _Snape to kill him! They'd probably talked about this, if there were a choice between Dumbledore's life and Malfoy's soul—"

Ron sniggered slightly. "What soul?"

Malfoy had his mouth poised with a retort, and Hermione glared at both of them as she continued, irritated, "Don't even start. All I'm saying is that it's in character for Dumbledore, and he obviously would've confided in Snape about the Horcruxes. Snape's right about one thing—we have no leads and we're running out of time. What do we have to lose?"

Harry was glowering. "It could be a trap."

"And we'll be on the lookout for one," Hermione said.

Ron was shaking his head. "I don't like it."

"I don't either," Harry said, words laced with tension, "but unfortunately we don'treally have any other options right now, and we have _got _to find that diadem. We can't tell the Order without telling everyone about the Horcruxes, so unfortunately we're on our own."

There was a thick silence as they considered the full implications of this.

Finally Malfoy snapped, "Would somebody care to fill me in here?"

The three of them shared a look, and Harry said grudgingly, "I guess we don't have a choice now."

* * *

_(One Day Later)_

It had been a lot of information to take in.

Draco was slightly amused that they'd been keeping such a big secret from the Order, but even he could see the wisdom in their decision. He doubted his crazy aunt or father even knew about the Horcruxes, and figured the Dark Lord _had_ probably only entrusted such information to Snape.

He'd always wondered about Snape, for even though it seemed ludicrous that the old man would have a Death Eater installed in a teaching position—and he was sure even Dumbledore knew that—he could see the sense in that too.

From what he knew of Snape, he considered it more likely that he was on his own side. But the man had always tried to protect him in his way, and even though Draco _had _initially resented him for it, he was grateful now, and it was hard for him to admit when he was wrong, even to himself.

"Snape lives _here_?"

Draco glanced over at the Weasel and sneered. "This place even makes _your _hovel look like a palace."

Weasel spun, fists ready for a fight. "One of these days, Malfoy…"

"You keep saying that, and yet that day never comes," Draco said, unable to resist another jab.

"Can it, you two," Potter snapped, positioning himself between them. "Don't make me regret not bringing Hermione."

"All right," the Weasel sighed, "let's just get this over with."

Draco, arms crossed over his chest, watched with a bored expression on his face to hide the anxiety churning inside him as Potter lifted his hand and knocked. Then the door opened partially, and, after glancing around one last time, they went in.

"I want to see you about as much as I'm sure you want to see me, Potter," Snape said, expression sour as ever.

However, when he glanced briefly over at Draco, there was a different look in his eyes, but before Draco could figure it out, the look was gone, leaving him wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing.

"Trust me, we wouldn't be here if we had another lead," Potter said, and Draco was almost impressed with the look of pure venom on his face. "But first, I just want to know _why_."

"I doubt I could say anything you would believe," Snape answered, almost spitting out the words. "I really don't care what you think, either, but if this is to work, I suppose, as much as I hate it, that I need to give you these."

Understanding immediately flashed across Potter's face as he took the small vial. "Your memories?"

"You'll find your answers there," Snape said, stiffly. "Now I don't have much time, so let's get through this as quickly and painlessly as possible."

* * *

_(One Hour Later)_

"I'll have to trust him about the diadem, since he had nothing to gain from this," Potter said as they were leaving, waiting until they'd walked at least a block before they Apparated.

Draco snorted. "Snape _never _does things unless he has something to gain."

Weasel narrowed his eyes, as if that look on him could ever be threatening. "I guess you would know a lot about that too, wouldn't you?"

Draco was about to reply when loud, harsh laughter suddenly cut through the air, sending chills up Draco's spine.

There was only one person he knew who laughed like that.

Death Eaters seemed to materialize out of the trees surrounding them, and before they knew it there were at least a dozen. Forming a tight circle, the three of them stood until they were back to back, and Draco gripped his wand so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Well done, wittle Dwakie," Bellatrix cooed, "we couldn't have done this without you!"

"I _knew _this was a trap!" Weasel bellowed.

Potter was remarkably calm. "You almost had me fooled."

Draco was enraged. "I had nothing to do with this, I couldn't have—"

"Take credit where credit is due, my ickle nephew," Bellatrix cackled, "You should be proud of your accomplishment! _Crucio!_"

Weasel fell to the ground screaming, and chaos erupted.

They were outnumbered and they'd been taken by surprise, and with Weasel and Potter aiming at him as well, Draco knew his time was numbered. Anger certainly helped fuel him, but even though he was fighting for his life, he still couldn't bring himself to kill, and he was tiring quickly.

Then he was hit, and as he fell to the ground, arms immediately went around him, and they Disapparated.

* * *

(_Two Hours Later)_

Hermione was trying to hide her worry, but as the hours passed by and Harry, Ron, and Malfoy didn't return, her focus began to dissipate as worry ate at her with increased viciousness.

Abandoning her work, she set her book aside and got up to pace and she'd just made her third trip when Harry and Ron finally burst in to the library. They were both disheveled and out of breath, but otherwise appeared to be fine.

She ran to them and hugged them both, but when Malfoy didn't follow in after them she stepped away, studying their faces intently. "What happened? Where is Malfoy?"

Ron growled low in his throat. "I told you we never should've trusted him—"

"_What happened?"_

"We were ambushed on our way back from Snape's, and Malfoy disappeared with them," Harry explained in a rush, and her eyes widened.

"That dirty traitorous bastard…"

"That's enough, Ron!" Hermione cried, stamping her foot in frustration. "How do you even know he had anything to do with it? For that matter, how do you even know it was _anyone_? Maybe it was just an unfortunate coincidence."

"Well it sure was awfully convenient, wasn't it?" Ron fired back at her, although it wasn't a question. "And Bellatrix said—"

She rolled her eyes. "How can you base any kind of opinion on what that psychotic deranged lunatic feeds you? Did you actually _see _him leave? They could have dragged him with them! This is _not _the time to jump to conclusions!"

"And just when did you start taking _his _side, Hermione?" Ron snapped.

"This isn't about taking sides, it's about the truth—"

"All right, enough!" Harry broke in abruptly, effectively silencing them both. "Hermione's right, and we at least owe it to Malfoy to find him and hear his story before we start damning him. We know that Voldemort is still stationed at Malfoy Manor, so they probably headed back there. Before we get the rest of the Order involved, there is one way we can find out for sure."

Hermione couldn't help but be impressed at the way Harry was changing and maturing. While she wasn't sure he'd ever really be able to forgive Snape even if he had reasonable explanations for his actions, he was less quick to take what he saw at face value.

And she didn't know when she started to believe that there _was_ good in Malfoy—that, in spite of what he'd said while under Veritaserum, it wasn't all due to his mother—but she wanted to know that it could be true.

Because, then, as ridiculous as it sounded, she could believe in hope, in possibilities, and Merlin knew they all needed a reason to believe in _that_.

* * *

_(Five Hours Later)_

Draco had lost all track of time and any hope of being rescued.

His body was as numb as his brain, and as he lay curled into a ball on the floor in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, he was only really aware of one thing, and even though it was too awful to think about, his lethargic thoughts kept on returning to it.

_His mother was dead._

Dead, dead, dead.

And, even though a nasty voice whispered that it was his fault, his father had been the one to kill her. Now he was miserable _and _lost. He'd left the Death Eaters because his mother had begged him to, but the Dark Lord had been the one to order her death, and there was no way in hell he'd grovel at the feet of some creature who'd had his mother killed.

Assuming he got out of here, which he wasn't seriously considering anyway, there would be no place to go. Now that he'd lost his reason for being with the Order, he didn't see how they'd let him back, and if they did, he'd probably be no better off than he was here.

He supposed he could run, but how would he last with both sides hunting him?

A sudden _pop _cut into his thoughts, and he almost would've missed the sound were it not for the shrill voice that accompanied it. "Draco Malfoy! Dobby has found you!"

Twisting his head around, he felt only mild confusion to see the bulbous eyes of a house elf staring at him. He knew he should feel more, but he was having a hard time thinking through the numbness. "What?"

The elf was practically jumping up and down. "Harry Potter sent Dobby to look for you, and Dobby would do anything for Harry Potter, even come back to the place where Dobby was so horribly treated—"

Draco didn't have much time to gather thoughts together before footsteps echoed harshly off the dungeon walls. "Dobby must leave now, but Harry Potter will come!"

The elf had already Disapparated before he could say anything, but then a figure was standing over him, and Draco's blood went cold as he looked up into the face of a man he no longer knew, and probably never had.

"Father."

* * *

_(Simultaneously)_

They'd ended up confessing their Horcrux mission to the Order, now in a position where there'd been no other alternative. Harry had gone through enough of Snape's memories to admit that he really had been working for Dumbledore all this time, and since they _had_ broken rules by taking Malfoy outside the castle and weren't even supposed to be near Snape, it was time to be honest.

They now knew the diadem was cleverly hidden in the Room of Requirement, and it was only a matter of time before they found and destroyed it. Since they couldn't rescue Malfoy all by themselves, they had to come clean.

Hermione and Ron had elected Harry to be spokesperson, and as he calmly explained everything, every member of the Order just stared at them with varying expressions of disbelief on their faces.

"Dumbledore never had time to tell us what to do with this information," Harry finished, "but since he only entrusted it to us, we felt he also meant for all of you not to know, perhaps because he didn't want the word to get out that he knew what Voldemort was up to. But Malfoy's been captured, and we need to at least try to get him back—it's what Dumbledore would've wanted."

There was a long silence.

Finally McGonagall said, "I understand why you three kept this a secret, and I commend you for your accomplishments. Once the diadem is destroyed, I doubt we will have to wait much longer for the final attack. In regards to Severus," and she had to pause and take a deep breath before she went on, "I will have to see these memories for myself before I believe it. But now we must focus our efforts on rescuing Draco Malfoy, for even if he didn't really want to be here in the first place, he deserves the right to that choice."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

They'd let Narcissa die, but at least now there was hope for Malfoy. And maybe, just maybe, Ron and Harry would be able to admit that they were wrong.

* * *

_(Four Days Later)_

The mission had gone remarkably well.

Fortunately, the Dark Lord had not been there and had taken a group of Death Eaters with him. Since Dobby knew how to get passed the wards and was able to lead them directly to Draco's cell, they were able to take the Death Eaters who were there by surprise and made it out before they had time to summon reinforcements.

Now Draco was all healed, but he still had no desire to leave the Hospital Wing. He didn't want to do anything except wallow in this numbness that had taken over his life, a life that no longer had any real meaning for him, and he didn't really want to see anyone.

But, of course, Granger had to chose today to come offer her false obligatory sympathy. "How are you feeling?"

At least now he could make someone else as miserable as he was…aside from Madam Pomfrey, and he was giving her one more day before she threw him out. As he thought about the best way to answer Granger's question, he decided to go along with dark humor, which was, as far as he was concerned, the only appropriate way to respond to something that stupid.

"Let's see…I just found out my mother is dead, that my father was the one to kill her, and after refusing to join my father's crazy, psychotic master, I was tortured by my crazy, psychotic aunt. But aside from all that, I'm just _great_."

She gave a short, mirthless laugh and looked down at her feet. "I guess I deserved that."

When she didn't say anything else, he frowned, instantly suspicious at her subdued reaction. Actually, she looked more guilty than anything. Gryffindors really needed to work on concealing their emotions. "I can tell there's something you're not telling me Granger. What exactly are you hiding from me?"

When she twisted her hands together, that sealed it. He had never seen her so unsure of anything she was about to say, and as he waited for it, tried to think of what this could possibly be about, but he really had no idea.

"Well, Harry sometimes has these visions, and he, er, saw Voldemort talking with your father about…getting rid of her," she said, hesitantly. "I wanted to tell you, you had a right to know—but nobody knew how you'd respond, and…"

He was having a hard time processing this. "So you _knew_? All this time?"

"Harry swore me to secrecy—"

"And you _always_ do everything he asks?"

He could feel the rage bubbling beneath the surface now as the shock was starting to wear off.

"No, I do _not_," she declared emphatically. "I saw his point even though I didn't like it. I'm sorry this had to happen to you—"

"_Don't _tell me how sorry you are you're not," he growled, throwing off the covers and storming past her. "The least you can do is not use me to make yourself feel better."

He waited a fraction of a second for her to demand to know where he was going even if she were smart enough to figure that out on her own, but when she didn't he tightened his fists and stalked out.

* * *

_(Five Minutes Later)_

When Draco finally found Potter, he was itching for a fight, and he didn't even waste time on words before he hauled him out of his seat and punched him in the face.

Straightening his glasses, Potter said somewhat breathlessly, "What in Merlin's name was _that_ for?"

"If you even have to ask, that's your first problem," Draco growled, resisting the urge to punch him again. "Now I know Granger's the brains of your outfit, but I'm sure if you thought just a _little _harder, even you would be able to figure it out—"

Draco broke off as Potter's eyes widened. "Shit. What did Hermione tell you?"

"What you should've a long time ago," Draco snarled, clenching his fists.

Potter sighed. "Whether or not you believe it, I really _am_ sorry—look, I know what it's like to—"

"No, you _don't,_" Draco growled, trying to calm down. "You know what it's like to grow up with_out_ parents, but you _don't _know what it's like to loose them. So _don't _try to tell me how much you understand when you have absolutely no idea."

Varying shades of anger played out across Potter's face until it finally melted into a look of resignation. "You're right—I don't know what it's like. But I do know that I'm sorry. Please accept my apology?"

Potter must really mean it if he were going as far as to actually admit he was wrong _and _sorry, and even though he was still angry and upset, Draco decided he could afford to be a gentleman just this once.

"I do." And then, hesitantly, he added, "Thank you."

Then, just as hesitantly, Potter slowly stuck his hand out.

And, after staring down at it in shock, Draco reluctantly took it.

* * *

_(Two Days Later)_

"I did mean it, you know."

"What?"

"That I am sorry, really. We all are. And I'm not just saying that to say it—I'm saying it because I mean it."

Lifting his eyes from his book, he looked up at her then, searching her face as though he were looking for insincerity. "If I say I believe you, will you leave me alone?"

She wasn't sure why she was doing this, and she wasn't sure why she wanted him to know. But she finally felt as though she were starting to know more of the real Malfoy, and was starting to even _like_ what she—

_No, not that._

She couldn't possibly, she hadn't even had _time _to think about things like that...

Malfoy was giving her a strange look, and she realized then that she'd fallen silent for far too long. She gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I just…want you to know that you don't have to deal with this alone. If you don't want to."

"And what if I do?"

She shrugged. "Then I'll go away."

He sighed. "I don't know what I want. All I know is that I want to avenge my mother's murder, but she wouldn't have wanted that. And hell, I can't even kill, so there's not much I could do, anyway."

Biting her lip, she pulled out a chair and sat down. When he didn't protest, she said, "There's nothing wrong with being unable to kill, Malfoy. It doesn't make you a coward. I haven't, and I'm not sure I could."

His eyes seemed to be focused on some distant picture only he could see. "When my father came to see me when I was imprisoned, he gave me one last chance to join the Dark Lord. I said no, that I didn't want to become like him, a man who would kill his family in order to save himself. But I don't really belong to any side now."

"Sometimes there is no clear side," she said, "but the most important thing is that you stay true to yourself."

"How can I when I don't know what that is?" he cried, frustration etched in every line of his face.

"You do," she insisted, wishing he could see what she did. "You just have to look a little deeper."

Taking a risk, she leaned across the table to cover his hands with hers. He stiffened but didn't pull away, searching her face intently. "Why are you doing this?"

She smiled softly. "Because I believe in you. And, sometimes, people need to know that others believe in them in order to help them believe in themselves."

* * *

_(Three Days Later)_

Even before Voldemort had made his intentions known through his link with Harry, everyone had been able to feel that it was time. There was only so long that tension could continue to build, and now that Ravenclaw's diadem had been found and destroyed, there was really only one last move left.

Voldemort couldn't really do anything else until Harry Potter was dead, and there was no place better for a final battle than Hogwarts. Everyone was weary of fighting, sick of losing their friends, and tired of waiting, but this last night would be the hardest of everything that had come before it.

Harry, struggling to admit that Snape really had been working for Dumbledore all along, was going through his memories one last time to see if there had been anything he'd missed. Ron was with his family, and, without thinking, Hermione went to the library, but it wasn't until she'd passed through the doors and saw its only other occupant standing by the windows that she realized exactly why she'd come.

Malfoy didn't even have to turn to know the footsteps were hers. "Granger."

She went to join him, and for a moment the two just stood there.

"It must be so much easier for you, with a side so clearly delineated," he said finally, speaking so softly that she would've missed the words had she not been standing so close to him. "There is no such frontier for me. No matter what I do, I'm betraying _something_: my family, or myself. I'll never forgive my father, but as impossible as it sounds, I can almost understand why he did it now, and I don't think he wanted to. If I don't fight I'm a coward, and I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But if I become a killer to finish my father, I know that, one day, I'll regret that too."

Hermione had never heard Malfoy sound so anguished—he'd kept his thoughts to himself when he'd learned of his mother's death, and he'd hid them in his anger—and she had to resist the urge to put a hand over his, or give him a hug.

"You don't _have _to face your father, you know," she said gently. "I'm sure somebody else will have the chance."

"But it _has _to be me, don't you see? I won't be able to move on completely unless I face him."

She sighed. "Nobody will think less of you if you choose not to fight, either. I can't even begin to imagine the position you're in now."

"My mother would've wanted me to stay out of it," he whispered, "but it's the only way I'll be able to find myself. I can't run now."

There was a brief silence as Hermione considered what she was about to say, if it would be smart to say it, but if she didn't now, she might not get another chance. Taking a breath, she said, "I just want you to know, Malfoy, that after everything…if there _is _an after…that you won't have to be alone if you don't want to be, that we'll be here for you."

He looked down at her, and she tentatively met his searching gaze. "By we—do you mean _you_?"

She bit her lip. "If that's what you'd like it to mean."

Exhaling slowly, he said quietly, "I—I don't know."

"That's okay, too. I just wanted you to know."

When she smiled, she was surprised to feel that it was genuine.

And when he said _thank you_, he actually looked as though he meant it.

* * *

_(Two Days Later)_

The final battle was over at last, and Voldemort was defeated once and for all.

Severus Snape had died so that Harry could go in for the kill, and Draco Malfoy had faced off his father, choosing at the very end to spare his life so he could have a fair trial. Neville Longbottom had shown his Gryffindor bravery when he killed Nagini, and most of the Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, had been killed.

There were only a few on the run, and they wouldn't last long.

They'd had their fair share of casualties: Remus, Moody, Professor Flitwick, Luna, Seamus, and that was only the beginning.

But now, at least, they could start to move on and learn how to live again.

* * *

_(One Week Later)_

Potter was finally out of the Hospital Wing, and Draco had somehow been dragged along with everyone for some sort of gathering at a Muggle pub where they wouldn't be recognized.

They were marking the end of something more than they were celebrating it. Even though there had been fewer casualties than anyone had expected, it still seemed wrong to be openly happy that the Dark Lord was finally destroyed forever.

He had gone because he hadn't felt like being alone, but now that he was here he felt more alone than ever. While he _was _glad the Dark Lord was gone, he had nothing else to be happy about, and he was at a total loss as to what to do with his life.

His father would be facing the Wizengamot with no hope of escaping a life sentence and his mother was dead, as were most of the people he'd considered acquaintances. He was surrounded by people who'd come to tolerate him, but no one really accepted him, even now. Granger did, perhaps, but he didn't really want her company either. She confused him, and he was already confused enough without the added complication of their relationship.

He was only becoming more depressed around all these people, and he wanted to sulk and indulge in self-pity without all this excess noise getting in the way of his thoughts.

Certain he wouldn't even be missed, he made his way stealthily to the door and promptly left, but if he'd glanced back maybe he would've seen the pair of eyes following his departure.

* * *

_(Simultaneously)_

The noise of the pub was starting to interfere with her state of mind, so she probably would've left soon in search of fresh air in spite of her intrigue in Malfoy's exit.

There were no more frontiers, no more sides.

Even when he'd been at his most horrible, he was fighting for his family, just as they had been. When put into its proper perspective, their past feud had been a ridiculous game, really.

She found him out back, leaning against the wall of the pub, staring up at the sky. Wordlessly she went to stand beside him, finding peace in the serenity of the stars.

They stayed that way in silence for a while before he coughed, breaking into her thoughts. "You're starting to invade my personal space now, Granger."

"What, worried that my _dirtiness _will contaminate you just because I'm standing next to you? It doesn't work like that, you know."

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "I _don't_ really believe that anymore, actually. I was fed that doctrine at such an early age that I didn't know to think any differently. But now—hell, I don't know what to believe now. I don't even know who I am anymore."

Biting her lip, she looked down at her feet. "I was joking, you know. But, in all seriousness, I could, er, help you, if you like. There's a good person in you Malfoy. You just have to _want _to be that person."

"Why Granger—are you coming on to me?"

She turned to look at him then, and as her body moved towards his she really _was _aware of how close they were. But since she couldn't move away now without him noticing, she held her ground. "I…could be."

"Well, I guess there's only one way to find out…"

Her mouth was open, ready with a question, but anything she'd been prepared to say quickly flew out of her head when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

She was too surprised to respond at first, but as the kiss continued and he showed no signs of releasing her, she allowed herself get lost in it, and when they finally parted their arms were around each other and she was pressed so tightly against his body that she could feel his heartbeat.

Her lips curved into a tentative smile as she asked breathlessly, "How was that answer?"

He had an intense look on his face. "Everything I've done has been for my mother. I left the Dark Lord for her, and I fought in the final battle more to avenge her than to find myself, even though that was the reason I gave you. I'm not sure I've ever really done anything because _I've_ wanted it—but you _do_ make me want to find that good person, Granger. And I want to be that person for you."

"You do?" A part of her almost couldn't believe it, even after all they'd been through.

Smirking slightly, he said, "Still want more proof Granger?"

He bent down to kiss her again, and as they stayed locked together, time lost all meaning. They'd crossed boundaries to come to this point, and set aside the past.

It was only the first step in an uphill climb, but if anyone could handle it, they could.

And they would—together.

* * *

**FINIS**


End file.
